Harry Potter and the Severus Stone
by heehee43
Summary: Harry goes to Hogwarts to encounter a Dark wizard teaching Potions. How does this bode for Harry? Not well, as strange things happen to him when he tries to learn more about this teacher...
1. Chapter 1

The hat, grubby and ancient, sat on the stool, both repulsive and mesmerizing. Harry could feel the hat was magic deep within his bones, regardless of its underwhelming appearance. Ron Weasley stood unimpressed, and scrubbed intently at his nose (which, according to Mrs. Weasley and Hermione Granger, had a spot of dirt on it, but frankly, Harry couldn't see a thing past his numerous freckles). Harry's heart beat nervously, but before he could turn to Ron to ask him what, exactly, he had to do, the hat burst into song:

_Oh you may not think me pretty,__  
But don't judge on what you see,__  
I'll eat myself if you can find__  
A smarter hat than me.__  
You can keep your bowlers black,__  
Your top hats sleek and tall,__  
For I'm the__Hogwarts__Sorting Hat__  
And I can cap them all.__  
There's nothing hidden in your head__  
The Sorting Hat can't see,__  
So try me on and I will tell you__  
Where you ought to be._

You might belong in

_Gryffindor,__  
Where dwell the brave at heart,__  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry__  
Set__Gryffindors apart;__  
You might belong in__Hufflepuff,__  
Where they are just and loyal,__  
Those patient__Hufflepuffs are true__  
And unafraid of toil;__  
Or yet in wise old__Ravenclaw,__  
if you've a ready mind,__  
Where those of wit and learning,__  
Will always find their kind;__  
Or perhaps in__ Slytherin __  
You'll make your real friends,__  
Those cunning folks use any means__  
To achieve their ends._

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

_And don't get in a flap!__  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)__  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

The Great Hall burst into applause at the song's finish, and all the first years whispered to each other in relief. Ron mentioned something about wrestling a troll earlier, but Harry suspected that came from one of his brothers.

As student by student walked up, Harry felt increasingly nauseous. He didn't have much to go on with smarts, so Ravenclaw was out. He could barely hold his own against his pig cousin Dudley, so Gryffindor's "brave at heart" was tossed out the window. Cunning? Well, maybe, but after his encounters with Draco, Harry didn't feel the urge to be placed with that sort. Hufflepuff it was. Harry fit loosely into the category of "patience"; Dudley's insufferable tantrums affected him much less than they had at first.

Suddenly, Professor McGonagall's voice rang out like a bell: "Potter, Harry!" The whole hall, after a brief moment of silence, was filled with the gust of whispering Harry was still not used to hearing; the mere mention of his name was enough to set the wizarding world ablaze. His shaky steps up to the hat were tentative at first, but then he gritted his teeth and walked straight to the stool. He placed the hat on his head, and everything disappeared. His mind was tuned in to a shrewd little voice that seemed to know all about him.

"Hmm. Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes - and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting…So where shall I put you?"

Heart pounding, Harry swallowed hard, and forced the idea of Slytherin away from him. With uncanny timing, the voice mumbled, "Not Slytherin, eh? Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that - no? Well, if you're sure - better be GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry leapt off of the stool, ecstatic. McGonagall took the hat back, and he rushed to his new table, his new Housemates pounding him on the back happily. Thunderous applause resounded from the table, but little to nothing came from Slytherin. Harry braved a glance up at Malfoy across the Hall, and was happy to see a look of malice. His first enemy, and he was happy. Harry suspected it was due to a sudden abundance of new friends.

As the rest of the Sorting went on, Harry chatted with other first years. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan were already shaping up to be best friends, and Harry nervously appraised Ron, checking to see if he already had a best mate. Thankfully, he did, and it was Harry. When the Sorting ended and the feast began, Harry's eyes bulged at the delicious food that had magically appeared on his plate. His hands shot towards everything in sight, and his belly was soon full with rich, savory food. The feast slowly evolved from concentrated eating to friendly chat over dinner.

"Oi, Potter!" Harry looked up from the fifth pork chop he was devouring. "I asked if you've done any magic already." Seamus grinned at him from a couple seats away.

"Well," Harry said uncomfortably. "I did make the glass at a zoo disappear recently, and my cousin Dudley fell into the snake habitat." Seamus, Dean, and Ron roared with laughter.

"Hilarious!" Dean chortled.

"What's a zoo?" Ron said quizzically, still grinning from his laughter. After trying to explain it for a while, with Dean helping, they finally gave up ("But how can you get a huge bear into a cage without magic?" Ron kept asking). Harry laughed some more at one of the Weasley twins' jokes (it involved a hag, a troll, and a warlock's left sock), then looked up at the head table. Conversing with the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Quirrel, was a man with a hooked nose, and long black hair. His face never changed, remaining as if he had been forced to swallow a lemon whole.

"Professor Snape," Percy Weasley leaned over to answer his unspoken question. "He's the Potions teacher. Desperately wants to teach Defense, though." As Harry looked on, Snape glanced over at him. Harry's scar flashed in pain, and he clasped his hand to his forehead. Something seemed off about Professor Snape. Harry wasn't sure he wanted to find out exactly what it was.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Wow. Seriously. I know that there is no reason at all to get excited, but I'm totally stoked. 12 views. *crickets chirp* OH SHUT UP AND LET ME BE HAPPY. Haha, just kidding. But seriously, I got 6 views from the US of A, two from Canada, eh, 2 from France (*nibbles on croissant*), 1 from China (#gaokao), and 1 from Australia. (AUSSIE AUSSIE AUSSIE! You finish the rest.) My sincere thanks to those who viewed my chapter and did not run away screaming from apparent retinal scarring. I hope you enjoyed it, though, even if it was a rehash of the first several chapters of HP1. I will say here that the first chapter did have a few things, i.e. the Sorting Hat's song and conversation, which were word-for-word from the chapter in the actual book. My apologies to the esteemed Ms. Rowling. In no way do I own those words. Again, thanks to all my readers (who may have just clicked on my book by accident)!_

Hogwarts was fantastic. Harry found out that magic contained more than just the quirky wand-waving and spell-muttering. His classes involved stargazing, plant studying, history, potion brewing, transfiguring, and charming. His teachers were just about as quirky as the stereotypical wizard (Professor Flitwick being strangely diminutive, and Professor McGonagall being quite stern and serious).

As a student, Harry didn't have much of a disadvantage. Even pureblood students had the same troubles he did with schoolwork; there was just so much to learn. Harry's first classes had been quite interesting; Charms was focused on different wand flourishes and useful cantrips; Transfiguration was quite difficult, even if the first lesson was how to turn a match into a needle; Defense Against the Dark Arts was a simple class based on minor hexes and jinxes; Herbology was a decent class, focused on the care on magical fungi and small plants; finally, there was Potions, which Harry had yet to have. It was taught by the secretive Professor Snape, and Harry was still quite apprehensive of him.

Unfortunately, he was scheduled for Double Potions the next day. Harry conversed with his roommates about Snape, and they all had heard different rumors.

"I heard he fawns over his Slytherin students," Seamus said. "He gives them all the credit."

"Yeah, I heard he hates Gryffindors. Him and McGonagall feud over the House and Quidditch Cup." Ron added.

"I heard he likes dancing around in a tutu when no one is around." Dean said with a straight face. Ron, Seamus, and Harry burst into laughter, and Dean grinned. He had been sitting on that joke for a while.

As the class drew nearer, Harry began to read his textbook. He might as well get a little bit of a head start. Nearly everything was a foreign concept: unicorn hair? Ashwinder eggs? Horned slugs? Harry rubbed his eyes blearily, then set the book down. Perhaps things would make more sense in the morning.

Fate did not please Harry. His first lesson was ghastly. Snape was a powerful presence, keeping the class silent with no effort. He lectured on the subtle art of potion making, then blasted Harry unfairly with advance Potions questions. Harry was dumbfounded; what the heck was a bezoar, anyways?

His first attempt at a Potion was mediocre at best. However, it was better than Neville's; after he was done with his potion, Neville had managed to melt Seamus' cauldron into a blob of twisted metal, leaking a searing hot potion onto the floor. Of course, Snape blamed Harry for not warning him, and this earned Gryffindor more and more points to be docked from their House total.

Furious, Harry tried talking his way out of it, but earned detention that night. "Should've kept your mouth shut, mate." Ron mumbled as Snape swept up the potion using a Vanishing Spell. Neville scurried up to the hospital wing, and Harry remained after class for his detention. 

"Potter!" Snape snarled from his office.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry answered, careful not to aggravate him.

"Fetch me the ten vials on the top of the rack in the potions cabinet." Harry did so quickly, then brought them in to Snape. "Sit down." Harry sat, nervous and shaking very slightly. "Do you know what these are?" Snape said, a cold glint in his eyes. Harry shook his head. "My N.E.W.T. students brewed a batch of Felix Felicis, and these ten are the ones that did not turn out correctly. To give my students at least partial credit, I must test out the potions on a control group. Tonight you will be serving that purpose. I assure you, these will not be poisonous or harmful, but I cannot guarantee that they will produce comfortable effects."

Harry's mouth dropped open. "I'm your test monkey?!"

Snape sneered. "I wouldn't be so crude as to put it that way, but in a sense, yes." Harry's jaw worked for a moment, but then he clamped it shut. He had to push through it. Snape uncorked the first one, scribbled on a large piece of paper with various symbols on it, and nodded. Harry gulped down the vial, and waited for the worst. He didn't feel particularly different.

Snape smirked, then marked a box. Harry didn't see what the problem was. He looked at the paper…and at the ceiling…and at the walls…and at the floor…and pretty soon everywhere else. Horrified, Harry began to panic, but he couldn't do much with the eye that was growing on his tongue. When his skin began to disappear and flood with tears, Snape summoned a small phial, and enchanted the contents into Harry's mouth. Moments later, Harry's vision was once again binocular, but he suspected that there might be a few leftover tear ducts still in his armpits, as he could feel the stains sticking his arms to his robes. Snape's cold smile did not reach his eyes as they progressed.

None of the other effects gave him as much discomfort, but he did walk out of the Potions classroom feeling sore and flushed. Snape was reputed to be the harshest teacher, but Harry hadn't realized the scope of his madness. He could only hope his next lesson was easier.


	3. Chapter 3

The fire crackled merrily in Hagrid's fireplace as Harry, Ron, and Hagrid enjoyed a cup of tea and a friendly conversation. Hagrid enjoyed calling Filch "that old git", and it made the two students grin.

"Hagrid, I've been having some trouble with Snape in Potions class." Harry said tentatively. Hagrid pursed his lips.

"Why would yeh think that?" he said.

"Well, he really seems to hate me. He gave me detention, after our first lesson, just because I was in the classroom when another Gryffindor made a mistake," Harry complained. "I mean, how was I supposed to know it was our job to correct other students?" Hagrid shook his head.

"Harry, yeh got to understand. Professor Snape…"

"…is evil!" Harry cut him off quickly. Ron nodded in agreement, not saying anything because of his sore tooth from one of Hagrid's rock cakes. "He experimented on me with his students' failed potions!" Hagrid waved his hand dismissively.

"Snape wouldn't do that, Harry. He's got enough brains to figure out what they did wrong just by lookin' at the potions." Harry's mouth dropped open. Snape had tested them on him intentionally. Hagrid frowned. "Yeh alright, Harry?" Harry nodded.

"I have to go." He jerked his head for Ron to follow, and they left, Ron caressing his sore jaw.

"Ah fink mah toof iv a lil bit chipped," Ron was saying, but Harry didn't listen. He furiously stormed back into the castle and into the Gryffindor common room. Ron was gone; he had been struck by the urge to visit the hospital wing.

Harry fumed silently in the common room, but then realized he had a wand. He took it out and began to take his frustration out on the fireplace. Of course, he could only cast little red sparks into the fire, but it still felt good to have more than the silent treatment as a vent. Harry imagined each little coal as a sneering Snape face. It was more fun that way.

Suddenly, Ron burst in. "Harry! Flying lessons on Thursday!" Harry's spirits soared.

"Flying? On a broom?"

"Of course, what else would you fly on?!" Ron practically shouted. The two immediately delved into thick books on Quidditch, and Harry familiarized himself with the sport. There was a big ball called the Quaffle that Chasers flew around and two small but hard Bludgers that Beaters hit at other players and a small small one called the Golden Snitch that the Seeker caught and earned 150 points for and oh my goodness this game sounded FABULOUS!

Harry daydreamed every day until flying lessons. If only first years could be on the team. Harry's eyes misted over, and it took him a couple shakes from Ron to wake up enough to register that his friend was reminding him flying lessons started in five minutes. The two ran down to the grounds, and Madam Hooch welcomed them to flying lessons.

Just a moment later, and Harry was ecstatically holding his broom; he had been one of the few students who could call the broom to his hand. A few students even cast him jealous looks. However, everyone was suddenly distracted by Neville Longbottom's sudden wrist break. He had jumped off the ground too hard before the whistle, and he quickly fell from the heights. As Madam Hooch took him away, she warned the class to not begin flying without her, and Harry was positive he wouldn't - that is, until Draco Malfoy started being a git.

"Did you see the look on his face?" Draco said gleefully. He had picked up Neville's new Remembrall. "Better take this quick before the stupid lump remembers he forgot it." The Slytherins all laughed nastily.

"Give it here, Malfoy!" Harry said angrily, stomping right up to Draco's face. Draco smirked and flew up into the air.

"Come and get it, then." Harry's ear were filled with roaring, and he ignored all of his friends' warnings. He kicked off, and something amazing happened: He felt free. Harry was elated. He was born for flying.

"Give it here, Malfoy!" Harry repeated angrily. Draco looked a little worried, but he smirked it away.

"Here," he said nastily, and tossed it as hard as he could towards the castle. Harry's mind went blank, and the only thing he could do was focus on catching the Remembrall. His body leaned down, and he felt the air curve around him, pushing him faster and faster. The ball was spiraling towards the castle walls, but Harry tucked himself tighter to his broom, zipped up to the ball, caught it, and yanked up hard on his broom. He stopped just shy of the castle wall.

The students on the ground cheered distantly. He flew back triumphantly, arm raised in victory, but his euphoria soon dissipated; Professor McGonagall was storming out of the castle. "POTTER!" Professor McGonagall was livid; her skin was flushed and her eyes ablaze. "Inside, now! Straight to my office." He looked down, heart racing. Disobeying Madam Hooch's orders meant expulsion…had Harry just lost his only hope at happiness in his Muggle life?

As he waited in McGonagall's office, he kept thinking over and over again at his Uncle Vernon, purple-faced and shaking his finger at Harry, saying, "YOU'LL NEVER BE ANYTHING, BOY!" Suddenly, McGonagall walked in briskly.

"Follow me," she said tersely. Harry's heart sank when they began walking towards the headmaster's office, but lifted back up when they turned down the corridor to a separate classroom. Inside was a tall, athletic-looking student with short brown hair. He was wearing worn-out Quidditch gloves. "Wood, this is Harry Potter. Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood," she said, suddenly beaming at him with pride. "I have found you your new Seeker." Harry and Wood both stood there with their mouths gaping wide.

McGonagall nodded. "This boy can fly better than Charlie Weasley ever did. He'll be better than even his father, I daresay." Wood closed his mouth and offered his hand to Harry. "Welcome to the team then, Potter." Harry shook back, and couldn't help but grinning stupidly. This was going to be a good year.


	4. Chapter 4

The Gryffindor table was abuzz with the news the next morning. "Harry, you do realize that you've got to be the youngest Seeker in a century?!" Harry nodded, filling his plate up with biscuits and sausage gravy.

"I heard that from Wood. He's been talking with me a lot, lately. I'm going with him to the Quidditch Pitch this afternoon so I can really start practicing." Seamus and Dean were clapping him on the back as soon as they arrived, and the talk of the table went from general surprise to specific tactics.

"Okay, so Ravenclaw has a decent defense, but they're usually dead last in the Quidditch Cup," Ron said matter-of-factly. "Hufflepuff is alright in offense, but their Seeker is usually a solid player. You'll have trouble with him. Slytherin's team is all-around decent, but we can beat them if we catch the Snitch early on in the game." Harry nodded, taking it all in.

Suddenly, Malfoy walked past him. "Heard you got on the Quidditch team, Potter," he said nastily. "Is your team really so low that they're looking to parentless first years for a decent Seeker?" Ron stood up in a flash, and Harry did too.

"Back off, Malfoy. Don't start anything." Ron said with a warning tone in his voice.

"I won't. Not here. Wizard duel, trophy room, midnight. Be there." His menacing tone got through to Harry, even though he hadn't the faintest clue what a wizard duel was. Draco walked away with Crabbe and Goyle, and Ron and Harry sat back down.

"So, what is exactly is a wizard duel?" Harry asked quizzically. Ron outlined the basics, saying that two wizards fought with magic, trying to kill or at least disarm the other.

"The most you and Draco can do is shoot red sparks at each other, maybe do a couple hexes." Ron said, reaching for some toast. Harry didn't feel like eating, so he cracked open a book and started reading.

Later that night, Ron and Harry went over some basic spells, and Harry tried to point out a decent-looking Disarming Spell when Ron bolted out of his chair. "Blimey, Harry, it's almost midnight!" Harry and Ron snuck down to the trophy room, and Harry tried to be as quiet as possible, taking care not to alert anyone of his presence.

As they entered the trophy room, the silence enveloped them. No one was around. Ron checked the clock. "It's 12:04," he said uncertainly. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps filled the corridor, and to the young Gryffindors' horror, it was Filch.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" Filch barked into the trophy room. He entered the room and shone a lamp in all directions. Luckily, the boys had snuck out the side door, and were on their way to the common room. On the third floor, they encountered Peeves, who chased them into a dark room, but they weren't concerned with Peeves for very long.

"Ron," Harry said quietly. "Don't move a muscle." Ron turned around slowly, and a look of horror shadowed his face. A giant, three-headed dog sat sleeping on the ground, dribbling saliva over the floor. A large harp stood silently at the side, and Harry frowned in confusion.

"Harry…" Ron said, voice quivering. Harry looked back at the dog, and saw its eyes open blearily. The heads lifted up at different times, but all began to look and snarl at the boys.

"RUN!" Harry shouted, and the two boys narrowly made it out in time before the dog's heads began snapping at them. The boys ran as fast as they could to their common room, and gave the Fat Lady the password as quickly as possible.

"What the bloody…I mean, did you see its….the heads were just so….blimey," Ron said, pale faced and shaking. "Why on Earth would we have a three-headed dog in the middle of Hogwarts?" Harry shrugged.

"Dunno. I reckon that's the thing Dumbledore warned us about at the start of term." The two sat quietly, staring at the crackling fire. "What do you suppose was beneath the trapdoor?" Harry asked finally. Ron frowned.

"Trapdoor? I was a bit preoccupied with its heads."

"Yeah, it was standing on a trapdoor. I wonder what it could've…" Harry trailed off. He flashed back to Hagrid's words after he had taken Harry to Gringotts for the first time. _"Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything…'cept maybe Hogwarts."_ "Ron, I think I've got an idea."

Harry explained his experience with Hagrid and the grubby little package in vault 713 at Gringotts. Ron's eyes widened. "Blimey, Harry. So important that Gringotts isn't safe enough? It must be incredibly valuable!" The two read a little bit on the great treasures of the last century, but they quickly became bored.

"I'm going to bed," Harry said sleepily. Ron nodded and followed him. As they came up the stairs, Harry glanced behind his shoulder at a bushy haired girl in the common room with a giant book out, flipping page after page. Harry shook his head, and then went up to his bed. That girl never stopped reading.

The next day, Harry found that he had mail for the second time in his life. Six screech owls had to fly in with a long, thin package. Harry opened the note and his heart stopped. "Ron," he whispered. "It's a Nimbus Two Thousand."

"A _what_?" Ron whispered loudly. The two had a quick and quiet conversation, then both ran up to the common room to stow the broom away before anyone saw it. Harry's heart was pounding hard as he thought giddily to himself, "My own broomstick. I have my very own broomstick."

On the way to the common room, the two gleefully discovered Malfoy sulking around the corridors. "First years aren't allowed a broom, Potter." Malfoy snapped nastily. Just then, Professor Flitwick showed up.

"Not fighting, I hope, are you boys?" he squeaked.

"Potter's got a broom." Malfoy said quickly.

"Ah, yes, Professor McGonagall informed me of the special circumstances. What model is it?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, Professor." Harry said. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy that I have it now." Laughing at Draco's confusion, the two boys ran to the common room.

"When is your first practice?" Ron asked excitedly.

Harry grinned as he thought back to the note. "Tonight."


	5. Chapter 5

"YEEEEEAH!" Harry zoomed around the Quidditch pitch, circling the goal posts and diving from high heights. His Nimbus Two Thousand turned beautifully, and Harry saw colors blur at the sides when he really got going. It was amazing.

"Oi, Potter!" Oliver Wood was at the bottom of the goalpost Harry was farthest from, but Harry was there in seconds. He was a little annoyed that he had to stop flying around, but he knew that he had to start training. "McGonagall was right," Oliver said with an excited gleam in his eye. "You're a fabulous flyer. Without any training, too. That means we can whip you into such top shape that you can outfly anybody."

Harry grinned. That sounded like a deal. Wood explained Quidditch to him in a few minutes, and Harry got to pass the Quaffle around with him for a while. "Can I see what the Bludgers do?" Harry asked. Oliver released one, and picked up a Beater's club. He hauled back with his arm, and knocked the incoming Bludger straight towards the castle. Harry grabbed another club, and his strike knocked it even farther than Oliver's did.

"Not bad, Potter." Oliver nodded in approval. The Bludger circled around, and as it hurtled towards the two, Wood jumped on top of it, forcing it back to the ground. He latched it back inside the Quidditch ball chest, and finally pulled out the Golden Snitch.

Harry's heart skipped a beat. He knew instantly that his entire life was meant for Quidditch. As Wood released the Snitch, Harry's hand snapped out and caught it. "Blimey!" Wood exclaimed. "You're a natural!" Harry got up on his broom after the Snitch had time to fly around the pitch for a while, and his first try only lasted three minutes.

"Potter!" Oliver called him back down after his seventh success. "You did brilliant today, honest. But we have to get back to the castle. Team practice is next Wednesday. Be there, alright?" Harry grinned and nodded, and the two went back to the common room.

Harry sat by Ron, who was busy playing his chess set against Seamus. His knight brutally demolished a pawn, and Seamus angrily stood up and walked away. "Fifth game in a row," Ron said. "He hates losing."

Harry told Ron all about practice over a game of wizard chess, which Ron beat him at very quickly. "Blimey," he said, impressed. "Wood seems to really like you." Wood was busy conversing with the Weasley twins, the team's Beaters.

"I can't wait for practice on Wednesday," Harry said excitedly. "I get to practice with the whole team."

Wednesday drew closer, but in a painfully slow manner. Harry was busy daydreaming in Charms class when Ron's furious attempts at a Hovering Charm were ineffective. "Wingardium Leviosa!" His flapping movements drew the attention of Hermione Granger.

"You're saying it wrong. It's Win-_gar_-dium Levi-_o_-sa. Make the _gar_ nice and long." Ron rolled his eyes.

"_You_ try it then," he complained. Hermione cleared her throat.

"Wingardium Leviosa," she said in a clear voice. The quill in front of her began to hover admirably.

"Well done!" Professor Flitwick squeaked. "Ten points to Gryffindor!"

Ron was aggravated after class. "It's no wonder she's got no friends," he said gruffly as a side comment to Harry, but his voice carried, and Hermione pushed past the two in tears. Ron began looking awkward, and when they passed the girl's lavatory, the sounds of sobbing made things even more awkward.

"I mean, I wasn't trying to make her cry, really. She was just so annoying. I mean—" But Ron's comment was cut short by Professor Quirrel, who burst into the Great Hall, screaming, "TROLL! IN THE DUNGEON! TROOOOOLLLL!" He reached the head table, and collapsed before Dumbeldore. "Thought you ought to know," he mumbled before fainting.

The Great Hall had never erupted into screams in Harry's time at Hogwarts, but this time sure made up for the lack of such experiences tenfold. "SILENCE!" Dumbledore shouted, his voice magnified magically. The Hall quieted immediately. "Everyone, if you please, follow your prefects back to your dormitories, and stay together at all times. Teachers, if you would follow me to the dungeons."

Dumbledore led the teachers out, and the prefects led the students to each of their respective dormitories. Harry and Ron were near the back of the line out, but suddenly Harry stopped dead. "Ron," he whispered, horrified. "Hermione."

Ron's eyes widened. "You mean she didn't come back into the Great Hall?" Harry shook his head, and the two rushed to the bathroom, from where they soon heard troll grunts and eleven-year old girl shrieks. "HERMIONE!" Harry screamed, and bolted inside.

The troll, humongous and warty, had thick gray skin that gave off a foul stench. Hermione was cowering in a stall that the troll had just knocked apart with its giant, gnarled club. "Do something!" Hermione yelled, panicked. Harry shot red sparks at the troll, and tried levitating a few sinks up to smash the troll on the head.

The troll turned around, confused. "Rargh?" it growled, not sure what to do. Ron's next levitated faucet stuck up the troll's nose, so it decided to go after him.

"Harry, what do I do?" Ron screamed in a panic.

"ARE YOU A WIZARD OR NOT?" Harry yelled.

Blushing but still sweaty and panicked, Ron flicked his wand and yelled, "_Wingardium Leviosa_!" The troll's club stopped midair, and fell onto the troll's head. A heavy, satisfying _clunk_ resounded from the troll's skull, and it collapsed in a heap.

The three stood still, silent except for the spraying faucets of broken sinks.

Suddenly, Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, Professor Flitwick, and Professor Dumbledore burst into the room. "Potter! Weasley! Ms. Granger!" she said, clutching her heart. "My goodness! What...how…" McGonagall continued to sputter, but Harry didn't notice. All he saw was a glint of malice in Snape's eyes, and a slight sneer.

"It was my fault, Professor. I let the troll in. I thought I could beat it." Hermione said quietly. Harry and Ron were shocked. She had sacrificed her perfect record for them?

After that event, the three became the best of friends. There was no talk of reconciliation. They just were. Gryffindor House earned five points that night, ten added from Ron and Harry beating the troll, and five taken from Hermione's "actions".

Harry got into bed, exhausted. He fell asleep, and had a nightmare of the troll chasing him around, squeaking in Professor Flitwick's voice, "Swish and flick! Swish and flick! Swish and flick!" Standing by him was Professor Snape, who sneered and laughed. "You can run, Potter, but there is nowhere that you can hide. Nowhere."


	6. Chapter 6

_A.N. Sorry for the huge delay in posting, I had no idea how to proceed with this story to really start making the story obviously different from canon. Anyways, I appreciate the 160+ views! Thanks so much!_

"Potter!" Harry looked up to see Professor Snape limping towards him through the snow. "What is that you have there?"

"Er, _Quidditch Through the Ages_, Professor."

"Library books are not to be taken outside. Five points from Gryffindor. And another five for that jar of flames, Ms. Granger. You know full well that unsupervised magic is not allowed outside as well." Professor Snape limped away, carrying both Hermione's jar of flames and Harry's book. The minute he was out of sight, Ron and Harry exploded.

"Those weren't really rules!"

"He has no right to-"

"-greasy-haired bat-"

"-I mean, that old git couldn't-"

"-even to Slytherins!"

"-with a giant bag of troll dung!"

The two finished their stream of swears, and Hermione sighed, exasperated. "Professor Snape can deem acts of students worthy of praise or penalty, whether or not it is an actual rule, so he did have some right."

"Hermione! Whose side are you on?!" Ron yelled.

"Yours, of course! But if your argument is so flawed, Ronald, you-"

"Come off it!" Ron said. "Snape was taking his anger out on us." Hermione frowned.

"I wonder why he's limping," Harry said slowly.

"Dunno, but I hope it's hurting him." Ron fumed.

Later that night, Harry felt sick about the first Quidditch game of the season, and tried finding his book to take his mind off of it, but then he remembered Snape still had it. "I'm going to go try to get my book back from Professor Snape," he said to Ron, who was concentrating on a game of wizard's chess with Seamus. Ron grunted, and smirked as Seamus moved his king into a vulnerable position.

As Harry approached the staffroom, he heard hisses of pain. "Easy with the wrappings!" Harry heard Professor Snape say through the door. "That dog's mouth was swimming with who knows what kinds of magical bacteria, and the infection is already spreading through my nervous system."

Harry paused. That dog? Snape continued to address whoever was helping him. By the sound of the mumbled replies, it was probably Filch. "Have you applied the potion to the bandages yet? Good. This should be the last layer." Moments later, Harry heard footsteps. Horrified, he tried to move, but his feet were glued to the floor.

BANG! The door flew open, and Snape limped out. His eyes latched onto Harry, and his face became a mask of fury. "POTTER!" Harry's mouth moved but made no sound. "BACK TO YOUR COMMON ROOM! NOW!" As Harry bolted down the corridor, he heard Snape fuming loudly. "That boy will meet a terrible end, Filch. I assure you, his arrogance will be his downfall."

As Harry got back to his common room, he gasped for air, clutching a stitch in his side. "Ron!" Ron was busy with chess still.

"Hmm-what?" he said distractedly.

"Snape tried to get past Fluffy. His leg's all mangled from getting bitten by it." Harry said grimly. Hermione got up from a nearby armchair, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, please, Harry. Snape is a teacher. He wouldn't do something like that."

Harry rolled his eyes back. "Snape's an evil git, I wouldn't put it past him," he said grimly. "I bet he was trying to get to whatever Hagrid got from Gringotts." Hermione frowned.

"What do you mean?" Harry and Ron filled her in on the details. "Small, grubby parcel? Smaller than a fist?" Hermione said, thinking. "It could've been the Sorcerer's Stone."

"What's that?" Harry and Ron said in unison, and then laughed. Ron was always joking about his brothers' uncanny knack for saying things in unison.

Hermione sighed. "Honestly, don't the two of you read?" The boys shook their heads ardently. "Well, the Stone is one of the most important inventions in alchemical history. With the Stone, it is possible to turn any metal into gold. It also allows whoever possesses it to brew the Elixir of Life, a potion that grants the drinker eternal life for as long as they drink it."

Ron and Harry's eyes bulged. Eternal life and wealth? Of course that would be powerful enough to attract any powerful wizard. Especially Professor Snape. "Hermione, this just makes the case for Snape even better! Who wouldn't want eternal life and gold?" Harry said.

Hermione shook her head. "Professor Snape may be cruel to Gryffindors, but I think that's just because he obsesses too much over winning the House and Quidditch Cups." Harry and Ron argued against her for a while longer, but eventually gave up.

"She's a lost cause, that one," Ron muttered as he and Harry got ready for bed. The Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin was the next day, and Harry needed to get to bed early.

The breakfast food smelled hundreds of times better than usual the next morning, but Harry wasn't hungry. "I don't want any, thanks," he said for the umpteenth time to his friends who were all pushing sausage and biscuits and gravy onto his plate.

"Harry, you've got to eat something. You don't want to be hungry during the game." Ron said.

"I'm fine," Harry said miserably. Soon it was time to head to the pitch, so Harry said goodbye to his friends and headed for the locker room. Everyone was nervous, and Wood was nervously polishing his broom handle, muttering something about precision, focus, and Gryffindor pride. The Weasley twins were the only relaxed ones in the room, hitting a mini Bludger at each other at such speed that Harry's eyes spun.

"Alright, people!" Wood said suddenly. Everyone became quiet and focused on Wood. "Slytherin's a good team. We've got our work cut out for us. But we have to cooperate. No team wins by riding on one person." Unfortunately, this is where Wood looked over to Harry and said, "Harry is our secret weapon. No one knows how good he is, so we're banking on that. Good luck everyone."

The lump in Harry's throat became bigger, but the whistle from Madame Hooch indicated that it was time to head out onto the pitch. As Harry and the rest of the team walked into the bright sunlight of the outdoor Quidditch pitch, Harry steeled his nerves. Time to show Slytherin what he was made of.


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: Um, well, over 200 views total for my story. That's more than I ever thought I'd get. Thanks so much to everyone who has read, I know I'm the worst when it comes to regularity, but I try and make up for it with new plot twists. There will be serious plot twists soon, I promise. Meanwhile, enjoy the rest!_

_P.S. Please review/PM me if you have something to say about the story. I'm rather curious as to how you guys view my story._

"AND THEY'RE OFF! ANGELINA JOHNSON IMMEDIATELY TAKES POSSESSION OF THE QUAFFLE, PASSING IT TO ALICIA SPINNET!" Lee Jordan's voice boomed across the stadium, easily heard over the roaring of the crowds. Harry's heart pounded heavily, and he was immediately caught up in the beauty of the game. Chasers flying like blurs around the pitch, passing the Quaffle back and forth and scoring on occasion.

"THAT'S A NICE BLUDGER FROM GRYFFINDOR BEATER GEORGE-NO, FRED-OH, WHO CARES, IT'S ONE OF THE TWO." Lee Jordan tried to keep up with which twin was which, but it was difficult even for the Weasleys to differentiate between the two. Harry ducked as a Bludger soared over his head, and scrutinized the pitch. No sudden flashes of gold, and no sudden movements from Slytherin's Seeker, either.

The game played out magnificently, scores being made on both sides with greater frequency. But, of course, Harry couldn't tell. His broom suddenly began to buck wildly, intent on knocking him down.

"Argh!" He began to slip. The broom stopped bucking and began flying around, loosening Harry's grip. Jordan was still preoccupied with the game, not taking notice of Harry's sudden plight. "Help!" yelled Harry, but it was to no avail.

The crowd slowly began to take notice of Harry's broom, and murmurs swept through the throngs of people, some maliciously gleeful from the Slytherin side, some worried and panicked from the Gryffindor side.

Harry's broom started to vibrate and slow down, and the sweat from his palms made it extremely difficult to keep his grip. Finger by finger, he began to slip. The broom almost seemed to realize this, and then turned vertical.

Harry fell.

A flash of white, a gentle thud, and Harry found himself on the ground. Dumbledore was standing by him, frowning. The rest of the players had paused, and were also standing by him. "Are you alright, Harry?" Dumbledore said with concern.

Harry nodded. "Professor, m-my broom." His Nimbus Two Thousand was dutifully floating by his side, like a friendly housepet, almost as if it had never tried to throw him off.

Dumbledore nodded grimly. "Someone in the crowd was jinxing your broom, Harry. And it was far too difficult a jinx to cast for any student to have done so."

Harry's first thought was Snape, but he kept his mouth shut. "Who jinxed it, Professor?"

Dumbledore frowned even more. "That is a good question, Harry. It is also beyond my knowledge. I do not know who jinxed your broom, but whoever did was determined to cause your harm. Foolishly, of course, as I immediately cast a Cushioning Charm beneath you as you fell. I would never let anything happen to any of my students."

Harry blinked. If he heard anyone else say that to him, he would have thought it to be arrogant. However, Dumbledore was obviously more powerful than he looked. Dumbledore gently helped Harry to his feet. "I do hope you shall forgive me for this, but I have decided to postpone the match for three days, while I sort out how best to protect you."

Harry swallowed his anger. Despite having just been "attacked", he was not highly inclined to give up the sport he had so suddenly become attached to. "O-okay."

The rest of the players grumbled openly, but didn't say anything in specific. As Harry got changed in the locker room, he rubbed his eyes blearily. Why would Snape jinx him? Sure, he was a greasy-nosed git who had a sadistic tendency towards Gryffindors, but why single him out?

His thoughts ran wild as he made his way back to his common room, but they weren't so clouded as to prevent him from noticing a limping Snape exiting a nearby classroom. Harry immediately jumped behind a statue of a cowering wizard, and listened, heart beating like mad, to his maybe-attacker.

"The boy needed to be taught a lesson." Snape snarled at whoever he was with. He began mumbling vicious things about meddling students, but a high, cold voice cut him off.

"Silence! That trick you pulled up there could have killed the boy."

Harry's heart stopped. Not only did Snape jinx him, but he did it on the commands of someone else? Someone with (as hard as it was to believe) worse intentions than Snape? As the cold voice spoke again, Harry stopped breathing, taking in every word.

"You have displeased me, Severus. I shall be keeping that in mind. But in the meantime, I require…sustenance. Commence brewing my potion immediately."

Snape answered, "Yes, of course," in a steady voice, but it seemed as though he was biting back something…was it anger? No…it was fear. Harry waited for Snape to leave, then began taking heaving breaths. Snape was the one who jinxed him, and it was no longer just his suspicion.

Harry ran down the corridor, eager to get back to Hermione and Ron to tell them about this, but he bumped into a giant, hairy wall—Hagrid.

"Blimey, Harry, wha's got you in a hurry?" he said, worry in his voice. "I saw what happened up there with yer broom, and lots of the teachers looked in a right state about it."

"Hagrid, I just heard Snape talking to someone about how he jinxed my broom," Harry gasped.

"What? No, Snape's a teacher, Harry. He wouldn' do somethin' like that." Hagrid said dismissively.

"Hagrid, I have proof! He tried getting past that three-headed dog on Halloween, I'm sure of it!"

"Wha—how do you know about Fluffy?"

Harry paused. "Fluffy?" he said cautiously.

Hagrid nodded. "Yeah, he's mine. Bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year. Lent him to Dumbledore to protect the, uh, well, tha's not important."

"Snape's trying to steal whatever's being guarded by Fluffy!" Harry insisted, but Hagrid waved his hand airily.

"Don' worry, Snape's one of the teachers protectin' the ruddy thing! Now, you listen to me," Hagrid said, suddenly serious. "You stop meddlin' in this stuff, it's gonna get you in more trouble than it's worth, so forget the dog, forget what he's guardin', and don' start investigatin' or nothin', that's between Professor Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel."

Hagrid suddenly flushed. "I shouldn' have said that, I shouldn' have said that." He walked away, shaking his head and mumbling, leaving Harry to stand there in shock, wondering who Nicholas Flamel could possibly be, and why Snape was trying to steal something from him.


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's Note: 320 views since the last time I checked. Well, I honestly couldn't ask for anything more awesome than this. Wait, yes I can. Reviews! Please PM me or review my story, it's driving me nuts not knowing if you guys like it or not, or if you have something to say about it! XD Also, if anyone has a question about the fanfic, don't hesitate to ask. I check my account daily. I'm probably going to get halfway through the book soon. It all depends on how abbreviated I make the chapters. Anyways, enjoy Chapter Eight!_

"So we can't find Nicholas Flamel anywhere?" Harry said desperately, but Ron and Hermione shook their heads.

"He's nowhere in any of these books," Hermione said hopelessly. "He isn't even in _The Unabridged Encyclopedia of Modern Magic Marvels_, and that's got nearly every witch or wizard I've ever heard of in there."

Harry hung his head dejectedly. Hagrid wasn't one to lie, so Flamel must be real. But why couldn't they find him anywhere?

Ron came over and patted his back. "It's all right, mate. We've looked everywhere we can, it's time to give it up." He picked up their large stack of books and handed them to the school librarian, Madame Pince.

"Wait a second…" Harry said slowly, watching Madame Pince scrutinize a seventh-year's permission slip to visit the Restricted Section. "Hermione, what's in the Restricted Section?"

Hermione froze. "No…you don't think…well, it certainly would need guarding…" She was annoying when she was vague, thought Harry.

"Hermione?"

She snapped out of it. "Um, Restricted Section, right. Well, it contains all of the Dark magic books and things like that, stuff Dumbledore deems unworthy of being put on the regular shelves where just anyone can pick them up. There are some really awful books in there. But, maybe, just maybe, this thing Nicholas Flamel and Dumbledore want guarded is something Dark."

Harry shook his head. Dumbledore was the opposite of Dark. He would destroy Dark magic before hide it.

"Well…" Hermione began, but Ron interjected.

"Maybe he's in one of those genealogy books, the Restricted ones with tons of bias and prejudice and nasty spells written in them as countermeasures for relatives who taint their blood!"

Harry frowned. "Tainted blood?"

"Yeah, purebloods loathe Muggles, and any wizard with Muggle blood is filth to them."

"Well…maybe you're right. Maybe whatever Dumbledore wants guarded is only Dark if it's used improperly." Harry said.

Ron grinned, pleased with himself, and the three made up their minds: they were going to get into the Restricted section if they had to ask every teacher in the school.

However, this task proved daunting; Professor McGonagall had brought up the Restricted Section before, and had told them all that it was not possible for any first year to visit it. Flitwick had let slip the truth, that it only took a permission slip, but the headmaster had to approve as well.

"Harry, Dumbledore won't let us visit the section to uncover his own secrets," Ron complained one morning in the Great Hall. It was Christmas Eve, and everyone was excited for the holidays. Hermione was gone, off home to her parents.

Harry's shoulders sagged. "I know, but we should at least try." This was easier said than done. Harry attempted twice to ask Professor Quirrel, assuming his stutter made Harry's own nerves less noticeable, but before he could finish, Quirrel would be distracted by some commotion in the classroom.

That evening, Harry spent his time losing miserably to Ron in wizard's chess. As Harry's queen grappled with a pawn (failing miserably to his dismay), he decided to give up and go to bed. His mind was a flurry of thoughts about Nicholas Flamel.

"Wake up, Harry!" Harry bolted upright, startled awake by an elated Ron. A small pile of presents sat by Harry's bed.

"Hey, I've got presents!" Harry pointed, ecstatically. He tore open one from Hagrid (a carved flute) and one from the Dursleys (a fifty-pence piece) before opening a package from Mrs. Weasley: a lumpy green sweater.

As Harry pulled it on, Ron grew slightly pink, wearing his own sweater, a deep maroon. "I hate maroon, and she knows it…" Ron muttered, but then trailed off at the sight of Harry.

Harry's heart was pounding. His head floated above the ground, apparently of its own accord, but it in fact was still supported by his body. It was invisible, however, due to a strange cloak he had discovered in his last present from an anonymous giver.

Ron's jaw dropped. "That's an Invisibility Cloak! They're rare, them."

Harry covered himself entirely, and walked over to Ron's bed, grinning at his friend's wild glances around the room. "Boo!"

Ron fell over his bed, and as Harry pulled off the Cloak, they started laughing. "Harry!" Ron said suddenly. "The Restricted Section!"

Harry's heart leaped. "Of course!" he shouted. The two began talking in depth about the best time to visit, but the Weasley twins interrupted with some Christmas morning shenanigans with Percy's prefect badge.

That day passed by slowly, Harry's mind focused on nothing but visiting the Restricted Section. As night came at last, Harry disappeared under the cloak once everyone went to bed, and snuck out to the library. He opened the gate that blocked entry into the Restricted Section, and snuck over to the bookshelf.

"Flamel…Flamel…Nicholas Flamel…" Harry muttered, then pulled out a moldy old book at random, opening it expectantly.

The book screamed. Literally. A devilish face strained against the pages, and Harry immediately shut the book and stuffed it back on the shelf, running pell-mell away from the library. Who put a screaming book in the library? Harry thought furiously, but stopped suddenly. Footsteps were approaching rapidly, as were voices.

"Filch, if a student had been sneaking around the Restricted Section, they may have been searching for highly illegal incantations and curses, which could ensue havoc at Hogwarts," Harry heard a voice say, its greasy quality identifying it as Snape's.

Filch answered in his wheezy voice. "Right you are, Professor. I'll search the corridors."

Filch shuffled away, and Snape appeared to Harry's left, brushing by him without seeing him. Harry's heart pounded wildly, but he wasn't caught. He let out his breath when he no longer heard Snape, and entered a nearby classroom to catch his breath.

Little did he know that his breath would be taken away as soon as he entered the room.


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's Note: Dang, 397 views. 3 away from 400. I can't say much more than thank you to all my readers, even if I only have a few dedicated ones. XD Well, I hope you guys can forgive me for being really inconsistent with my posting, I'm deep in preparation for the SAT and my tests for AP Calculus AB and AP Language & Composition. Work kinda cuts into it too. Anyways, enjoy Chapter Nine! _

A large, ancient mirror stood propped up again the far wall. Words in a language Harry didn't know surrounded the mirror's frame. Tentatively, Harry walked up to the mirror, making sure his Invisibility Cloak covered him completely. The mirror gleamed faintly in the dim light that came from a distant window.

Making sure no one was around, Harry took off the Cloak. His reflection appeared in front of the mirror, and the light around him seemed to shimmer lightly. Harry stood there silently for a moment, then gasped in astonishment.

A woman with long, dark ginger hair and bright green eyes—just like Harry's—stood to his left. She was very pretty, and she looked down at Harry with a loving smile.

To Harry's right, a tall man with messy black hair—just like Harry's—stood to his right. He wore glasses and had his arm on Harry's shoulder, grinning down at him like he was proud of him.

Harry swiveled around, but no one was there. He whirled back around just as fast, greedily drinking in the sight of what he knew immediately were his parents. He slowly began to see more people in the background, people that looked very much like him.

His family.

Harry's heart swooped in pleasure, but then fell in dismay. His family wasn't really there. He was still just as alone. But he couldn't manage to turn away from the mirror. He sat for what seemed like minutes, but really was hours. He had the sudden urge to tell Ron what he had seen, what the mirror showed him, and he stood up with slight reluctance.

"I'll be back," Harry promised the mirror, then ran to the Gryffindor dormitory with the Invisibility Cloak snug around him. He barreled into the dorm he shared with Ron, then found him dead asleep. It seemed cruel to wake him, so Harry got into bed and had the hardest time falling asleep. He finally did, and his dreams were full of what could've been his best family moments.

In the morning, at breakfast, Ron was very cross with Harry. "I would've gone to see it," he grumbled. "I would've gotten up."

Harry rolled his eyes. If Harry had been able to manage the Herculean task of shaking Ron awake, he doubted Ron's eyes would stay open even if they were running through the corridors. Harry considered telling Hermione, but she was too busy practicing some sort of charm usually reserved for third-years.

Late that night, Ron and Harry snuck out of the dormitory, both hidden underneath the Cloak. Harry's heart pounded as he retraced his steps, trying to find the right room. Just as Ron started to complain of heavy eyelids and tired feet, Harry found the right door.

"Here it is, it's right here!" Harry said excitedly, and he burst into the room. Ron followed, and Harry stood in front of the mirror, the Invisibility Cloak held loosely in his hand. He saw his family smiling and waving, and he smiled and waved back.

"Harry? I don't see anybody." Ron said, confused.

"That's…that's because you're not looking at it properly," Harry said, suddenly concerned that he might be going mad. "Try right there…yeah, right in front of it."

Ron's eyes went from confused to blank to sudden awe.

"You see them then?" Harry asked excitedly, but Ron shook his head.

"I'm…I'm..I'm Head Boy! And Quidditch Captain, too! The House Cup and Quidditch Cup are right here, and I'm a lot taller! Harry, I look cool!" Ron said ecstatically, then swiveled to face him. "Do you suppose this mirror shows the future?"

Harry frowned. "How can it? My parents are dead…"

Ron returned to gazing transfixed at his reflection. Harry got impatient, and tried to push Ron out of the way so he could have a turn, but as the two began to shove each other, they heard a loud "meow" from the doorway.

It was Mrs. Norris.

"Run," Harry said shortly, and the two booked it out of the room.

Back in their dormitory, Harry and Ron had a conversation in agitated whispers.

"I still say that mirror shows the future," Ron said stubbornly. Harry tried countering this with logic, since his family was all dead, but Ron wasn't budging.

"Fine, you can believe that all you want," Harry snapped, and shut his four poster bed curtains rather irritably. As he lay down, he couldn't sleep again—his parents' images still swam in his head. When he heard Ron go back to sleep, he crept out of bed. Just one last look.

However, when Harry got back to the room, he only had it to himself for a few minutes, before a gentle voice stirred him from his enchanted reverie. "Back so soon, Harry?"

Professor Dumbledore stood behind him, his hands folded across his stomach as he smiled kindly down at Harry. "Forgive me, but I do not require an Invisibility Cloak to hide myself from the naked eye." He walked to Harry's side.

"Um, Professor? What exactly is this mirror?" Harry asked tentatively.

Dumbledore smiled. "This, Harry, is the Mirror of Erised. It shows us that which we desire most. The happiest man in the world would simply use this mirror as a regular mirror. However," he said, his voice suddenly turning somewhat sharp. "Many men have spent their lives wasting away at the haunting images of the Mirror of Erised. It does not show what is to come, but what is desired."

Harry nodded. He desired his family more than anything else in the world, even though he couldn't bring them back.

Dumbledore smiled again. "The Mirror of Erised will be moved to a new location tonight, Harry. It would be wise to not go looking for it again."

And with those parting words, Dumbledore swept from the room, his cloak billowing behind him. Harry made his way back to the dormitory, fell into bed, and immediately fell asleep. His dreams were peaceful, free from the ache of the loss of his family at last.


End file.
